Trace

As they crash over her one after the other, as they roar up through the petite body flushing her fair skin and swelling her dripping sex, as they come in quick and thunderous succession intermittently driving out the breath from her lungs, she exhales the sweet syllables of his name, longing for his liquid lust, yearning for his scorching seed, aching to be filled with the cream of his climax, needing above all else, the tangible trace of his desire.